


Santa hear my plea; bring my baby back to me

by tastinglove



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, 12 days of Jarry, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastinglove/pseuds/tastinglove
Summary: 12 Christmas themed Jarry oneshots, one each day until December 24th





	1. Building a snowman

                                                                

 

There’s a pristine crisp layer of snow outside when Harry wakes up, James still half asleep in their bed, and he looks through the kitchen window with tired eyes. The sky is still tumbling with new snowflakes, glittering as they settle on trees and bushes. Nothing has really turned into the typical British grey slush of melted ice and dirt yet, the tranquility of the village helping to preserve the picturesque image.

As usual, he’s put on fuzzy socks after getting out of bed – and he’s even more grateful for it today. The floor feels cold even through the soft material as the heating isn’t on yet. Feeling slightly giddy, he breathes against the glass of the window and watches the condensation form before reaching out to trace a star with his finger.

Using the French press to prepare two cups of steaming coffee, adding some brown sugar to his own, he pops the sweet chocolate square of his advent calendear into his mouth before heading back into the bedroom. His step much more uptempo now that the day has given him a wonderful idea.

James is more awake now too, scrolling through something on his phone and Harry watches him from the doorway for a few seconds – the way the ginger in his beard is coming through with the bright winter light peaking through the curtains and how just a faint hint of chest hair is poking out from where his sleep shirt is rumpled – before the cups in his hands get too hot and he clears his throat.

His boyfriend’s gaze snaps up, a smile immediately forming on his face. He places his phone away and reaches out for the morning dosis of caffeine.

'Good morning.’, he says while briefly letting their hands meet, stroking his thumb over Harry’s knuckles.

'Morning.’, he answers, settling down next to him again and leaning back against the pillows - still warm from their over night body heat.

James takes a long first sip of the beverage, humming a sound of pleasure at the taste, before leaning over and pressing a kiss onto Harry’s cheek. 'Thank you for this.’

'You’re welcome...but I might have had ulterior motives.’

'Oh? Pray tell, what’s the evil and sinister plan behind bringing me coffee?’

'Welllll’, he says – drawing out the word and pause to make his own first sip of warm goodness – 'I know how quickly some black brew gets you going and Father Christmas has blessed us early with the joy of fresh snow.’

'Aaah.’, the other man says, a cocky smile forming on his beautiful lips. 'Does that mean you want me wide awake and ready for....certain activities....to spend the whole long entire day in bed?’ James’ hand has found a place on Harry’s upper thigh under the blankets and keeps sliding up further and further. The warmth of his palm getting closer to the heat of his groin when Harry stops his movement.

‘Uh uh. That means I want you to drink your coffee, have some breakfast and then get dressed for us to go outside and build a snowman.’ James’ face does a funny pouty little thing as he listens to Harry’s plan.

‘You were right. Those are cruel, ulterior motives.’ He brings the cup to his mouth again, drowning a good portion of the beverage, as if he’s already going along with the younger man’s wishes.

‘Buuuut…’, Harry continues for him, lacing their free hands together. He gets a theatric sigh in return.

‘But. I love you and yes, even enough to go out into the cold to build a snowman.’

‘Yay!’, Harry cheers exaggeratedly, cupping James’ jaw and leaving a kiss on the corner of his mouth. If possible, the older man’s pout only intensifies.

‘If I’m about to get my shoes soaked in icy slush..I better get a more passionate incentive than that…’

Harry huffs, quickly putting his cup on the bedside table to properly lean in lock their lips together. He gives him what he asked for, capturing his lower lip between his teeth and then soothing the spot with the plushness of his own mouth. He pulls back before it can turn into a full make-out session, their tongues just barely meeting in the middle.

‘That good enough for you?’, he asks as he relaxes back against the bed.

‘For now.’ The pout is gone, a smirk now dancing on his face, his eyes glinting with something dangerously exciting.

‘Drink up, I’m gonna start on some banana pancakes.’

____________________________________________________________________

James drives them out of town for about fourty minutes, Harry hoping he won’t start sweating too much in his scarf, beanie and glove combo. He knows he’ll be happy he’s wearing all of that once they’re actually outside again.

_Last Christmas_ is about to be played for the second time on the radio when they reach their goal – a quaint little park that’s never particularly busy. There’s a lake near by and the trees are dusted with snow so that they almost look like they’re covered in powdered sugar.

Their breaths puff out infront of them as they make their way deeper into the large central meadow, snow crunching under their feet. It’s the first time they’ve got out their proper winter boots and he moves his toes against the warm lining inside of them.

‘Wanna start around here somewhere?’ James asks as they slowly come to a halt a couple of metres in, their arms linked together. They’re still far from being in the centre but the spot looks nice, the snow around them looking plentiful and clean – and dense enough so that it’s actually going to stick and hold together.

‘Yeah, let’s do it.’

He crouches down to start rolling the biggest ball that will go on the bottom as the base while James does the same for the one to go on top. He thinks about how he hasn’t done this in years, the last time was easily longer than a decade ago by now. In a similar small park somwhere with his mom.

The hand sized snow ball quickly grows as he adds more and more to it, his gloves so far holding up quite well. He’s focused on rounding things out when something pokes his buttt.

A tiny yelp escapes him and he turns around to see James standing there – proudly holdy a small branch in his hand.

‘Found something to use as the snowman’s arms later.’ He looks so pleased as he says it, whether its for finding the spindly stick or giving him a poke…it probably doesn’t matter. Harry smiles at him.

‘Very nice. How’s your ball coming along though?’

He follows the older man’s gaze down to where a tiny, sad looking lump of snow has been squashed together.

‘You know that stick will be useless if we don’t get the body done, right?’

James lets out a too loud sigh as he bends down again to actually start rolling the snow. ‘Fine. You’re lucky you look so cute right now.’ Harry watches him fondly for a few more moments, appreciating his boyfriend’s derriere in his nicely tailored pants.

They both work next to eachother in comfortable silence, cold air clinging to their faces and turning their noses red. Harry’s pile now goes up to over his knees and he decides to bring it to a stop, smoothing everything out as best as he can. Pulling out a couple leafs here and there to make the ball look perfectly snowy white.

‘You finished?’

‘Mhm.’ Harry answers, shaking off some snow from his gloved hands.

James steps over with his own medium sized ball cradled in his arms. The younger man is surprised to see that after his initial reluctance…he seems to actually have put some effort into it. The whole thing actually looks incredibly smooth.

‘Ready for me to…. _go on top_?’ James wiggles his eyebrows as he plops his part of the snow man on Harry’s – who pretends to be annoyed for a split second before letting his grin win over.

‘Sure. Well done.’ He kneads the older man’s neck through his coat for a moment – a small touch of _'I'm really happy we’re doing this together right now'_

‘Why don’t I take care of the last ball and you go find another branch so he doesn’t have to stay one-armed?’, Harry suggests.

‘I do so like it when you boss me around.’, James mutters against his ear – a shiver going through him – before he saunters off to the side.

The snowman’s head is made quickly, he situates it gently on the very top and steps back to look at their creation.

It’s not perfect, all of it a bit uneven and leaning slightly towards the left but…it’s **_theirs_** and he couldn’t feel happier about it, already not wanting to leave it here to melt eventually.

‘With the way you’re looking at him…should I be jealous?’

Harry turns towards James’ voice, sees him smiling at the scene and carrying a second branch – this one a bit bigger. It will only add to the charming asymmetry of their work.

‘Never. You know you have no competition.’ They meet with a kiss, cold lips warming up again as they move against eachother.

‘I should hope so. Especially not some as…. _cold hearted_ as that guy’, James quips. Harry snorts into his shoulder.

‘Stop being ridiculous and give him some arms.’

The wood is gently plugged into the sides of the second ball and then James reaches into the deep pocket of his coat to…pull out a bright orange carrot. Harry can’t help but start laughing.

‘Did you really take that from the pantry just for this?’, he breathes out.

‘Why? Planned on using it for a vegetable stew or something, did you?’

‘Hey! I make an awesome stew.’ James shoots him a look that says _‘you nearly burned off my tongue when you used too much chili that one time_ ’. ‘Either way…no. It’s really sweet that you thought of that, to be honest.’

‘Wanna do the honors then?’ His boyfriend holds out the carrot to him, like he’s asking him to finish off a masterwork. Perhaps he feels the same way as Harry about their creative process.

‘With pleasure.’ He slowly pushes in the carrot, making sure that their snowman ends up having a nice long nose. As a last second decision, he makes two indents with his thumbs where the eyes would be.

He steps back, grabbing James hand to make him do the same.

The older man must decide that that’s not enough body contact and instead he entangles his fingers and wraps his arm aound Harry’s shoulder, tugging him towards him as tightly as possibly. The younger man’s head now cuddled under his chin.

They stand there, content in eachother’s warmth, staring at their snowman and the frosty grass around them, the only colorful spot being the orange nose peeking back at them.

‘I think it turned out alright, didn’t it?’, Harry asks.

‘Perfect.’, James answers. ‘I think it turned out perfect.’


	2. Going ice skating

                                                                 

Harry is seated on one of the plush small couches in the _Bean_ , a tea latte in front of him as he waits for James to meet him here during his lunch break. The lawyer has been working a lot from home this holiday this season, but today he decided to catch up on some filing and a few invoices in the office.

He’s munching on his caramel gingerbread spice muffin and scrolling through his instagram, Christmas cheer slowly spreading through him as Mariah Carey croons in the background and his feed fills with pictures of snowed in and decorated cities, only interrupted by people showing off their fancy cream-topped Starbucks cups.

‘Hello darling. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’ James plops down across from him, his brief case barely closing with the amount of paperwork inside.

Harry puts his phone on the table to give him his full attention. He has a maroon scarf wrapped around his lovely neck and the color suits him ridiculously well.

‘Nah, you’re fine. How’s work going?’

‘It’s…a lot. A lot of archiving towards the end of the year, really. Tedious and boring but necessary.’

‘Well I’m sure I have something to cheer you up then.’ He shoves over the chocolate orange cake on the tiny plate and James’ face lights up completely.

‘Not to say that seeing your lovely face wouldn’t have been enough to make my day brighter but…I do appreciate a good cake.’ He reaches out to cover Harry’s hand with his own, squeezing and shaking gently before going for his fork.

‘I know you do. I almost wanted to dig into that myself.’ James promptly offers him a piece, Harry rolling his eyes because that’s not even what he meant, but he leans over anyway to eat it off the silverware.

‘Delicious.’, he says – rich chocolate and a hint of festive orange in his mouth. James hums in agreement around his own mouthful.

They talk about the last two episodes of _The Alienist_ they had watched the night before and eventually James feels ready to actually moan about his high-strung co-worker Mitchell who refuses to retire and definitely stares at his secretary for way too long.

Harry takes a large sip of his latte, knowing it tastes best when still steaming hot and frothy.

‘Mh. This looks nice. I should take you sometime.’ Harry is interrupted as he licks the foam of his lips, not quite sure what James is talking about.

Then he sees that he’s looking down at his phone, his instagram still open and right now showing someone’s winter New York vacation.

‘What? To New York? I don’t think that’s something we should spontaneously decide over lunch.’ He jokes, but he’s suddenly feeling a bit hysterical even at the idea of it.

‘Actually, I meant ice skating. But sure, we can talk about that too, if you want.’ There’s a certain light headedness that comes with realising that James would be ready to drop god knows how much money on a trip to the states for the two of them…just because Harry might be in the mood for that. They haven’t really gone away together anywhere yet, James has been hinting at spending New Year’s at a family owned cabin. But planning something like that together for the future….that means that the other man is actually not tired of him yet. He shouldn’t be surprised by it, not really. James reminds him of it every day – in vocal and physical form. But the realisation still makes a warm, fond feeling settle in his stomach.

‘Let’s stick with the ice skating part for now…’, he manages to get out. Leaning forward a bit more to see that one of the pics does indeed show the famous ice rink infront of Rockefeller Center, a giant Christmas tree in the background.

‘Would you wanna go then? I know this nice place that serves some decent hot chocolate, too.’ James looks excited and Harry is starting to wonder if that’s something he is good at – ice skating. It would be kind of hot to see him show off on the ice. And maybe he has this proper romantic image in his head he’s seen all the straight couples do in movies, linked arms and glittering lights as the slide across the surface. Fuck, he wants that.

‘Yes’, he breathes out. ‘I’d love to, actually.’

______________________________________________________________________

They find the time to go that week, a cold Friday afternoon. The rink is set up just outside of Chester’s main town area, surrounded by stalls for the Christmas market – selling the promised hot chocolate as well as mulled wine and bratwurst.

The elderly man who rents them their skates looks a little bit like santa himself, a too long white beard and a cheesy red sweater with reindeer on it.

Harry takes tentative first steps onto the icy surface, James staying with him – looking super casual as he waits for him to get more comfortable near the edge of the rink.

He looks around, the crowd not too big, but he does allow himself a moment to feel a bit embarrassed at watching a few kids skate quick circles, completely sure on their feet. For a split second he thinks of getting one of use plastic penguin shaped skate helpers that some of them are using….but then James’ leather gloved hand glides over his and thinks… _oh_. I might actually have something better.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got you.’, James says. Clearly being able to read the hesitation on his face.

With one hand still holding on for dear life to the rink wall, and the other now intertwined with James’, they slowly start their first round.

His boyfriend skating backwards to drag him along.

‘You’re doing great.’

‘It’s okay, we’re already dating. No need to sweet talk me anymore. You can say that I suck.’

‘I would never. You’re simply…taking things slow. Assessing the situation and your surroundings.’

Harry lets out a ridiculous loud snort and finally manages to look up from his legs to James. A blinding smile is greeting him and his mouth returns it instinctively.

‘Right. You sure have a way with words.’

‘Lawyer, remember?’

‘And professional ice skater on the side?’

‘More of a…childhood hobby.’ As their blades curve along the ice, Harry’s cheeks turning red from cold and happiness, parents and spectators watching with crêpes in their hands,...he imagines little James doing this with Marnie or Nathan as a yearly winterly tradition. He himself only remembers going once or twice with his mom, probably the first year of primary school. He feels a pleasant warmth at the though of him and James now making Christmas memories of their own.

After their first circle is finished, Harry’s knees don’t feel quite as wobbly anymore and he’s actually keeping his shoulders and head straight. No longer pressing his fingers into James’ palms but rather using him relaxedly as support.

‘I think I wanna try it on my own now.’

‘Sure. I’m gonna let go then, alright?’

‘Mhm’

James’ fingers slip away from his and he feels a bit like bambi for two seconds as he lets go off the edge before he tries his first leg movements alone. He doesn’t fall, stumble or shake. It might not look like the most graceful or smooth thing ever but…he’s doing it.

‘See? I knew you could do it!’

They’re now skating next to eachother, shoulders brushing occasionally.

When Harry asks him to show him a twirl, James does so gladly, gliding a bit ahead and giving him what he asked for. His younger boyfriend woos loudly for him, people around them turning their heads, and James looks horribly chuffed and fond – the area around his cheeks only slightly pink from the added attention.

James skates back right next to him and links their arms. They slowly make their way around the rink for one and then two more rounds. Frank Sinatra’s ‘ _Have yourself a merry little Christmas_ ’ is drowning out of the speakers and Harry finally feels like he’s having his romantic movie moment.

Which is when he promptly decides to lean over, angling his body into James’ chest, trying to make their lips meet….and immediately loses his balance to land square on his butt with a _thump._

‘Ouch.’, he says – despite it not really hurting. He reaches out behind him to make sure everything about his…valuable assets is still okay.

‘You alright there?’, James asks while holding out a hand to him. Harry looks up at him and despite the genuine concern there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes…and he can’t even blame him as he starts laughing himself.

‘I’m fine, yeah.’ He lets himself be pulled up. ‘I guess I just fell for you all over again.’


	3. Going sledding

                                                         

Romeo and him are in the back of the car, the younger boy showing him another John Mulaney video on his phone.

James is driving, sometimes him and Harry lock fond eyes in the sun visor. He had been a bit grumpy this morning, Harry quickly realised it came from his nervouness alone. The father and son relationship was still so fresh and his boyfriend has confessed he doesn’t really know what he is doing ninety nine percent of the time. But that’s okay, because he’s trying – really trying. And if Harry has to reassure him a thousand times that he’s not Mac and never will be, _never could be in a million years_ …it’s fine. They’re working and growing and most importantly doing it all together side by side.

So after Romeo had been treated to a nice new sweatshirt, an upper class restaurant visit and a trip to the theatre…he must have decided enough was enough. Confronting James in the middle of the street about how they were never doing things **he** wanted to do. James, in his usual defense move, got angry – only to be calmed down by Harry’s hand on his elbow. After a deep breath, he promised that from now they’d find compromises. And then a pleased winning grin, oh so similar to his father’s, settled on Romeo’s face and the words ‘ _I wanna go sledding_.’ tumbled out of his mouth.

And now they’re here, three wooden sleds in the trunk on the way to one of the nearby slopes.

‘Do you think there’s enough snow?’, Romeo asks – excitedly looking out of the window.

‘Yeah, it should be fine. Everything seems mostly covered.’ Harry answers, following his gaze. It stopped snowing a few hours ago but nothing has really melted away yet, and while there’s indeed not a super thick white layer decorating the landscape, it does look a bit look like winter wonderland. ‘Trust me, I’ve sledded down a hill that was more mud than snow at one point.’

He probably shouldn’t have said that, since James’ facial expression in the front turns into another one of mild trepidation. He’s probably not too fond of the idea of mud on his Italian coat.

Meadows and farms roll past them, the area getting more and more rural. Sheds and cobblestone houses with giant christmas reefs following them on their way.

When the car is parked and they make their way up the paved way to the top of the hill, each of them carrying their sled, Romeo is basically bouncing on his feet already.

‘You know, we could still turn right. Take a nice stroll in the country side, enjoy the fresh, crisp air. Take in the view.’ James’ shoulders have relaxed more, and the mirth and joking tone in his voice is completely obvious – but Harry knows him well enough to gather that if either of them decided to change plans…he’d drop and ditch the sled in less than a second.

‘What are you gonna suggest next, bird watching?’, Romeo asks sarcastically. Harry hides a grin in the top of his jacket.

‘You know I’m not really into birds.’, James quips – giving Harry a suggestive sideway glance and raising his eyebrows. Romeo groans.

‘I walked right into that one, didn’t I?’

Harry’s giggle breaks loose.

‘You kind of did, yeah.’

‘Consider this your first taste of dad jokes then.’, James announces proudly, reaching out to pull Harry closer and wrap his free arm around him, his thumb ending up absentmindedly stroking his shoulder.

Romeo rolls his eyes, but his smile betrays him.

Ten minutes later, the ground beneath them getting more and more snowy and wet, and they’ve made it to the top of the slope. There a few toddlers in bright winter coats, their parents tugging bobble hats over their ears, as well as a group of teenagers – younger than Romeo even – currently more focused on posing on their sleds for the perfect selfie instead of actually doing any other activity.

They find an empty spot on the right hand side, setting down their sleds next to eachother.

The hill isn’t too step, a beloved spot for families for a reason.

‘Are we all going down at the same time? Make it a race?’, Harry suggests – knowing the competitiveness that runs through the Nightingale blood.

‘Alright, but don’t cry when you lose.’, Romeo says and situates himself on top of his sled, his legs in a position so he’s ready to go.

‘We all know I’m the one who wants to get this over and done with as quickly as possible so…I don’t get why anyone would underestimate my ability to be the fastest here.’, James continues from where he’s left next to Harry.

‘Hmm..I don’t know, maybe your ego will weigh you down.’, Harry teases back at him – his tongue poking out between his front teeth and gaining James’ attraction.

‘Now I’ll just win out of spite.’ Is what he gets as a response, his boyfriends eyes’ still focused on his mouth.

‘I’ll count to three.’, Romeo announces.

All of them are sat down, gloved hands leaning forwards onto the wooden sleds, looking down at the snowy canvas infront of them –framed by a few trees on each side, far enough away to not create any danger.

‘1..2..3!’

Harry pushes himself off with his feet, gaining quick movement. The glides of the sled pick up snow, sprinkling past him and landing in his hair. Wind rushes back against his face, tickling his ears and he feels so incredibly alive and happy, a smile of pure childhood joy errupting on his face. He briefly looks over to see Romeo with very much the same expression and then tuns his head to see James – who is indeed focused on gaining speed and keeping on track…but his eyes are crinkled up with delight and a held back grin from where his lips are pressed together makes Harry want to pause and frame this moment. He looks cute with his legs just slightly too long for the sled.

He hears a little boy ‘ _woohing_ ’ with excitement somewhere off to his left and it fits perfectly with the mood and him reaching the end of the hill. As he comes to a halt, he can already see that Romeo was a bit faster than him, James finishing almost exactly as the same time as Harry himself.

The younger Nightingale stands up, throwing his fist in the air. ‘I’m not gonna say I told you so but…I did indeed tell you.’

‘I totally went easy on you for the first round.’, Harry retorts.

‘Mhm. Sure you did. Does that mean you’ll beat me the next time?’

‘You can count on it.’

‘What I’m gathering from this lovely conversation is that both of you want do this again’, James interrupts their little back and forth. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and Harry wonders if his lips feel chapped. His eyes are still alight with that same fond gleam, despite how much he’s trying to sound disgruntled.

‘We’ve got to give you another chance, old man, don’t we? Unless you’re too tired out already?’ Romeo’s wit is only challenged by his father’s mischievous smirk in return.

‘Oh the arrogance of youth..Should I remind you that you were the one almost out of breath when we arrived on top of the hill? But yes, I’ll gladly accept the challenge. Though, may I add, with my endless wisdom, that it’s rarely about winning and more about sharing the experience in the making.’

Harry breathes out a wet laugh through his nose.

‘Where did you read that? Somewhere embroidered on a pillow case? Cause I can’t imagine it was in one of your law books…’, he jokes – walking over to James and playing with the lapels of his soft coat, dusting off some of the snow particles still left.

‘I don’t know…maybe a certain someone has shown me the happiness that comes with just enjoying the moment…’ James’ eyes travel suggestively up and down his face before he leans in to brush their lips together (Harry was right, they are just slightly dry. The vanilla from his lip balm still coming through.). He feels the other man’s warm breath on his face and practically sighs into his mouth, completely drowning in the feeling. The glide of their lips together becoming smoother, more wet – when someone clears their throat. _Oh, right._ Romeo.

‘I’m still here, you know.’ Harry pulls back, actually feeling the heat come up his chest and cheekbones, turning around to mouth a ‘sorry’ at him. He lets go of James’ coat, who catches his hand and looks awfully smug. And happy. God, Harry loves that he can make him smile like that.

‘I can see that.’, the older man answers. ‘The question is why are you still down here when you were just a moment ago so eager to beat your old man?’

‘But you-‘

‘Come on.’ James continues, tugging a laughing Harry along and grabbing his sled, ‘Chop, chop. It’s time for the second round.’

They go to the side, out of the way for everyone else, and climb up again. Their boots collecting snow at the fronts and the midday sun bright against the reflection of whiteness.

When they’re on top again, James has a suggestion.

‘How about this time, Romeo, it’s you against both me and Harry one one sled at the same time?’

‘You just want an excuse to wrap your arms around him like the biggest cliché ever.’, Romeo says with an impressive eye roll only a true teenager can manage.

‘I see no need to explain myself or to correct your statement.’; James says – a huge dumb smile on his face as he puts one now spare sled to the side, guiding Harry to sit in the front and then coming up behind him.

His long arms wrap around him, warming him instantly. It makes him feel cozy and just as Romeo said, like straight out of a romantic Christmas movie. He’s definitely not complaining.

‘I do enjoy riding with you.’; Harry murmurs low enough so only James can hear.


	4. Buying a Christmas tree

                                                                  

Harry is looking for a spare lightbulb for the kitchen, rummaging through James’ narrow storage room, when his eye catches something red and sparkly in one of the cardboard boxes.

He goes up on his toes to inspect further, pushing away the dusty box of spare chargers next to it, and sees that it’s neatly labeled with _‘Christmas decorations.’_ He knows James is no stranger to interior design, his apartment always feeling sophisticated and homey at the same time, and a year ago – when bruises had still covered his skin – he had been a bit too distracted to actually notice much of the Christmas tree and sparkling lights over the fireplace.

But with the holiday just a short two weeks away again, he’s curious now of the contents infront of him. He pulls the box down with both hands, quickly realizing it’s heavier than initially thought, and barely managing to sit it down on the floor by his feet – the whole thing definitely landing with a bit of a _‘clunk’,_ Harry cringes at the sound, hoping nothing has shattered.

‘Harry? You okay in there?’ James’ voice, tinted with worry, calls out to him. Before he can even answer, the older man is already standing in the door frame. Harry smiles sheepishly at him.

‘I’m fine, yeah. Sorry, I just…found this..’, he says – gesticulating downwards to the cardboard – ‘and couldn’t quite help myself.’ James’ furrowed brows rise again, and his lips stretch into a smile. He steps into the room, barely enough space for two people to be standing like this.

‘You’re like a little magpie, aren’t you? Attracted to shiny things.’ Harry flushes but doesn’t correct him.

‘Didn’t know you had all that Christmas stuff.’

‘What? Because I seem like ‘ _bah, humbug’_ type most of the time? Honestly, I’m wounded.’ Harry rolls his eyes, bumping their shoulders together playfully

‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just thought…you’d be the more lowkey type.’ He crouches down to open up the lid of the box, ornaments and baubels with so many different details and in all colors, shapes and sizes staring back at them. Most of them look to be made either out of glass or ceramic, expensive and probably handmade. ‘You have all this stuff, it’s a fortnight til Christmas…but here’s no tree to be found.’, Harry concludes, raising his eyebrows questioningly at his boyfriend.

‘Hm. I guess these past few years I’ve seen it more as a…necessary tradition, often forced by Marnie’s hands. Sometimes it didn’t feel like I had all that much to celebrate.’ James looks solemn for a moment before his face lights up again and his right arm snakes around Harry’s middle, caressing the area just under his ribs. ‘But this year is definitely different. It would be terribly remiss of me to not have that represented within my Christmas spirit as well.’ There’s just a slight teasing undertone to his voice, but the overwhelming honesty makes Harry’s chest feel warm – like his heart my burst from overflowing love at any point.

‘So…does that mean you’ll get a tree?’; Harry asks, leaning back into the embrace – his neck resting on James’ shoulder as he stares up at him.

‘No.’, James answers – the skin around his eyes forming even more crinkles as his smile turns even more gorgeous and bright – ‘’It means _we’ll_ get a tree for _our_ aparment.’

_______________________________________________________________________________

It smells like pine as he soon as he gets out of the car, the small way up to the Christmas tree farm littered here and there with fallen off needles. The air is cold and clear, the sky slightly grey but not turning dark yet for the afternoon. When he looks straight ahead, there are rows and rows of dark green trees ligned up. Categorised into different types – noble firs, fraser firs, scotch pines as well as white, blue and Norway spruces. It’s an incredible sight, like a mixture of the most perfect forest and some magical place a place where Santa’s reindeer would feel comfortable.

Harry grabs James’ hand, feeling incredibly excited.

‘You know…I think I only remember having a real tree like once or twice. Both mom and Tony had a fake one stocked away for each year. The older they got, the sadder they looked.’ James lets him ramble and reminisce for a moment. ‘Man..I’ve forgotten how good they smell.’

‘Is that why you’re basically burrowed in my neck the entire day wheneve I wear my Tom Ford _Vert D’encens_? The pine?’

‘Don’t act like you don’t love it.’

‘What’s not to love about someone clinging to you like a koala when you’re trying to get through your day like a normal person?’ The teasing glint in James’ eyes is so lovely that he wishes he could bottle it somehow.

‘Heyyyy’, he whines, dragging out the ‘y’ and giving him a bit of a pout. ‘Fine, I won’t do it anymore then…’

James’ hand slips out of his own and immediately comes to settle on his hipbone instead, pulling him closer so that their thighs touch. ‘Don’t even think about it.’, he says – his breath warm again Harry’s ear. ‘To be honest…I should wear that scent even more often …’

The younger man breathes out a soft laugh, relaxing completely into his boyfriend’s touch and the domesticity of the moment between them.

One of the salesmen, wearing a Santa hat, let’s them to know to call for him if they need any help. But James seems detemined and confident in his knowledge of Christmas trees, a warm hand grounding Harry’s lower back as he leads them through the rows – giving him a few details here and there. Talking about which type of tree might last the longest, have the best branches for their ornaments and encouraging him to get closer and smell the fresh needles.

Harry lets his fingers glide over the edges of the trees as they walk through them, taking everything in – including having James so close to him and feeling their bodies brush against eachother, the cold making their noses and the apples of their cheeks turn raspberry pink.

‘I think I like the blue spruces the best.’, Harry concludes after about ten or so minutes. Currently standing infront of one that is a head taller than himself.

‘Then we should get one.’

‘Yeah? What about you though? Which one do you like best?’

‘That’s easy. The one that makes you happiest.’

‘When did I turn you into such a softy?’

‘Trust me, you make me anything but soft…’

‘Focus!’, Harry interrupts him, feeling himself blush with pleasant heat. James is opening his mouth again, but the younger man shushes him before he can continue with his mischief once more. ‘On something else.’

James chuckles, rubbing Harry’s back through his jacket.

‘Come on, have you seen the perfect one then, yet?’

‘There was one over there.’; Harry says – walking a couple steps to the right – ‘Yeah, that one looks pretty nice.’ It’s almost James’ height, no spare areas anywhere and the branches perfectly bushy.

‘You’ve got a great eye for this. This one does look really nice, and it’d fit perfectly into our living room.’ There’s that word again, _our_. ‘What do you say, is this the one or do you wanna keep looking?’

Harry looks up at James, the words immediately coming out. ‘This is the one.’ He quickly realizes he’s not just talking about the Christmas tree anymore.


	5. Going to the Christmas market

                                                             

‘Do you have your scarf?’, James asks from where he’s stood in the bathroom, putting on some hand cream.

’Just putting it on’, Harry says, wrapping the grey wool around his neck and letting the ends fall over his thick sweatshirt.

‘Good, don’t want you freezing. Could you get my wallet from the drawer, darling?’

‘Yep.’, he answers, already plucking the leather thing out of their dark brown, almost black wooden sideboard.

‘Thank you’, his boyfriend answers softly as he comes into the bedroom, taking the wallet from Harry’s outstretched hand and tucking it into the backpocket of his pants for now.

‘You look good.’, Harry comments – taking in the sight of James in his dark red button up that he had helped him choose the other week while on a little pre-Christmas shopping spree.

‘Flattery, my dear, will get you absolutely everywhere.’, James says as he leans down to press a kiss onto his lips – both of them lingering in the moment. ‘You ready to go?’, he asks after they’ve pulled apart again, Harry nodding in return, letting their foreheads touch.

They put on their coats, James now placing his wallet in its inner pocket for safety, and Harry grabbing a small umbrella – the weather forecast and murky sky pointing definitely more towards rain than snow.

They take a cab into the town centre, both of them feeling sort of lazy after their mid-day coitus, and James wanting to be responsible, knowing he’ll probably have some mulled wine.

The traffick on their way is already brutal, the last week before Christmas of course a reason for insane amounts of people to flock together for forgotten errands.

But it doesn’t matter, they have all the time in the world on this lazy Saturday, Harry slightly leaning his head on James’ shoulder in the backseat – watching the frenzy of bright lights and shopping bags through the fogged up window.

‘Do you want to eat something first or just look around a bit?’, James asks, his chin coming up to rest on top of Harry’s head.

‘Hm. I think we should stroll around a bit first. Unless you’re hungry?’

‘Im still… _sated_ from earlier.’, the older man answers – placing a hand on Harry’s thigh, just a bit too high to be completely casual.

‘I would make a joke about feeling full myself and all that but…I don’t wanna egg you on even more.’

James chuckles, warm breath ghosting over Harry’s hair.

‘That’s okay, you were pretty vocal about how I made you feel either way…’ One of his fingers on Harry’s leg starts moving back in forth in tiny motions, his nail slightly digging through the material of his jeans.

The clear shield between them and the driver is drawn up but Harry is very much aware of how visible they are with one view in the rearview mirror.

He lays his hand on top of James’, stopping his caress and instead bringing their joined hands up to kiss his knuckles and then letting them fall down between them.

‘I know this time of year is all about love and stuff but….let’s maybe keep that particular part of love for just our bedroom walls.’

‘And the living room, and the kitchen, and –‘

‘Oh would you look at that, we’re here!’

The car is still rolling, James laughing against his ear as Harry slowly unbuckles his seatbealt and then the driver also announces they’ve reached their destination.

The older man passes over the money, while the younger exists and is immediately hit with the uncanny smell of the Christmas market – spiced drinks, cookies and German sausage. A wonderful combination of flavours coming together in one place.

Hands intertwined, they walk up the street to where the first stalls are visible. It’s interesting to see how each owner has chosen to decorate their booth for this year – variations of tinsel, rainbow sparkling lights, fake and real holly and painted ornaments bring life to everything.

They slowly make their way through the rows, the crowd often thick and hard to get by, but the atmosphere is beautiful. There’s plenty to see – handmade jewelry, detailed woodwork, organic honey in intricate glass bottles – Harry staring at everything a bit wide-eyed and James in turn watching him fondly.

When they walk past a crêpe stand, they both decide they’re now feeling peckish enough to get one.

One with cinnamon & sugar for James, banana and nutella for Harry. The dough is fluffy and light, and the sweet treat warms their hands.

‘We should steal their recipe, those taste way better than the pancakes I usually managet to make.’, Harry says.

‘I disagree, don’t sell yourself short like that.’ There’s a faint layer of melting sugar glistening on James’ upper lip and the shorter man can’t help but stare.

‘Are you really trying to tell me the taste is in any way comparable?’, Harry asks – a smile dancing across his lips.

‘Hm.’, James says – pausing briefly as if he’s contemplating something – then promptly leaning over and kissing him. Sugar crystals and melting chocolate mixing together, the glide perfectly smooth and warm. The sweetness making everything a bit sticky, and it might just be the most wonderful thing ever, if you ask Harry. When he slowly opens his eyes again, James is staring back at him with something like wonder, his free hand still cupping his cheek. ‘I think both are absolutely delicious.’

Harry rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his crêpe to hide his massive grin.

‘You’re ridiculous.’, he says eventually.

After they finish their meal, they look around again, trying to choose one out of the several stalls offering mulled wine and other hot drinks. Eventually stopping at a slightly less crowded one, a wooden sign titling it _‘Santa’s Brew.’_

James chooses the classic red wine, while Harry goes for the Chardonnay infused one. Standing at a little wooden bar table, gloved hands wrapped around the cheesy reindeer mugs, fake candles flickering somewhere in the background and Harry is sure he has never been more in love - with Christmas, and with James.


	6. Decorating a gingerbread house

                                                               

They’ve baked two large baking trays full of gingerbread, a basic recipe of butter, sugar, eggs, flour, molasses and a lovely smelling mixture of spices.

Laid out infront of them in tiny glass bowls are sprinkles in all shapes and colours – festive greens and reds, glittering metallics, snowflakes and stars, crushed up and intact candycanes, gumdrops and m&m’s.

Harry is stirring the blue gel food coloring into one bowl of royal icing, having split the freshly made batch into six cups, the colour swirling into the creamy white while James does the same with the red.

‘Not gonna lie…I kind of just want to eat all of this as at is.’, Harry says while licking a tiny bit off icing off of his thumb.

‘Well, you could. But..a, that wouldn’t be much fun. And b,….you’d complain about a stomach ache within an hour or two.’

‘And then you’d take care of me and coddle me all evening…I don’t really see a downside to this.’

‘Please.’, James continues – pushing his chair a bit closer to his boyfriend’s – ‘You should be well aware by now that you don’t need to fake some sort of illness for me to retire to the bedroom with you…’

‘Are you saying I’m easy?’, Harry teases. James purses his lips, as if he’s actually thinking it through for a moment.

‘Thinking back to when we met almost three years ago…I think we can both agree no one could accuse you of being easy.’ Harry snorts at his answer, memories flashing through his mind.

‘Your proved your persistence though.’, he says- linking their ankles together under the kitchen table.

‘And it was worth it.’ James murmurs, his voice turning just a tiny bit softer.

‘It certainly was…Are you gonna be as persistent with that gingerbread house as well though? Are you sure I can't...offer some distraction?', he continues, slowly sliding his foot up James’ calf.

The older man smirks, amused by his antics.

‘Yes, I am, actually.’ A brief pause and then – ‘And I’m gonna win.’

‘Win? Woah, when did this turn into a competition?’

‘Just now.’, he says, reaching for the knife and starting to cut off the first piece of the baked goods.

Harry gapes at him for a moment before breaking out into a full-on grin and grabbing a knife of his own. ‘Cocky, I like it.’

‘Mhmm. I know you do.’

This time, instead of playing footsie, Harry decides playfully kicking his shin is an appropriate answer.

Harry more or less has a plan of what he wants to make, has seen a few creative decoration ideas that depart from the traditional gingerbread house. He begins by spreading a thick layer of the blue frosting onto the plate, all the way to the edge. Using a spatula to create movement, wave-like texture. Pouring some of the crushed up cornflakes over one side, making the sand portion for his beach style house.

When he’s measuring out the size for his walls and roof, he peeks over to see what James is up to. He’s currently gluing two side pieces together, holding them so that the frosting can dry. It doesn’t look like he’s going for the typical _‘Hänsel & Gretel’_ type either, which makes the younger man very curious.

Harry also starts with building the base of his house now, trying to use enough icing so the gingerbread will actually stick, but not too much so that everything will just get runny.

‘Need some help?’, he hears as his struggle to hold everything in place with only two hands becomes a bit more obvious.

Harry turns towards him, sees that James’ house looks collapse-proof and more like a long, stretched out house that will have several layers. It’s a pretty cool concept, he thinks.

‘Wouldn’t that be fraternising with the competition?’; Harry asks, jokingly.

‘I think we’ve done other things that would be considered much more than fraternising…’

‘I guess we can be lenient then.’ The mirth in both their eyes reflects off of eachother and their shoulders press together warmly when James leans over towards him, holding two pieces of gingerbread so that Harry can apply a bit more icing out of the piping bag.

Arms crossed weirdly on top of eachother, they press everything together for a minute before slowly letting go.

‘Ok, I think it’s safe now.’, Harry states – holding his breath instinctively to watch if anything crumbles. Nothing moves.

‘All thanks to my magical hands.’

Harry rolls his eyes, remembers last night and how those hands had done and touched very different things…but can’t deny their magic.

‘I **_am_ **grateful for your hands.’, he lets him know – the other man looking at him knowingly before pulling back again and continuing with his own work.

Harry quickly manages to put on the roof on his gingerbread house, squirting out a door and four windows with the white icing. He uses the yellow one for the roof before sticking on some _Cinnamon Toast Crunch_ cereal, making it look just a bit like the thatched roof of a beach hut. He adds icing dots within a couple centimetres apart to make it seem like a string of lightbulbs is wrapped around the whole complex, adding rainbow sprinkles and m&m’s for the lights, popping on into his mouth every now and again.

He puts some random golden, green and red swirls here and there to fill in and cover empty space.

Feeling happy about the outcome, he checks on James’ progress again. His boyfriend has created something that could be described as a gingerbread loft. Three layers with a long piece on top, looking like a rooftop terrace.

To the right on the plate is also an area covered in blue, framed by cookie pieces – a swimming pool. He’s used some golden and silver glitter for the window frames and Harry is kind of (okay, maybe a lot) impressed.

James is just finishing off drawing on a big Christmas reef onto the front door of his house when he sees Harry watching him. He smiles.

‘I think your face already says that I’m the winner.’

‘In your dreams.’, Harry scoffs.

‘Is there where your inspiration came from?’

Harry raises a single eyebrow at him. ‘Do you have something against my beach house?’

‘Of course not…though I’m not a particular fan of that brand of cornflakes.’

‘The cornflakes, really?’

'Yes.'

‘Fine, shame on me for not using the _Kellogg’s_ ones. Such a grave mistake definitely earns you the winning spot.’ He places his hands on James’ shoulder, leaning closer to capture his lips in a kiss, feeling James’ laugh turn into a moan. The air around them still smells of nutmeg and James’ beard is slightly scratching his chin – he loves all of it so much that he only pulls back when he feels he like he needs some air.

The older man’s lips have turned even more red from what they’ve just done, glistening with moisture.

‘I’m a strong second place though.’, Harry teases. James’ cheek dimples in return.

‘Oh, definitely.’ James looks around for a moment, seeing the cranberry scented candle on the coffee table, the beautifully decorated tree standing in the corner and the fire crackling in the living room. And of course Harry sitting right here next to him. ‘Gingerbread houses aside, we’ve definitely made quite a nice home for the two of us.'


	7. Having a Christmas movie marathon

                                                          

It begins with _‘Home Alone’_ as they lazily lounge on the couch after dinner. Of course, they’ve both seen it more than times than they can probably count but it's also perfectly good background noise to make out to.

Both their mouths sort of taste like gravy, lips still a bit oily, and James’ hands are warm – first on Harry’s back and then lower on his butt over his jogging pants. Harry glides his tongue over James’, softly pressing down, and his boyfriend sighs into his mouth.

He grips the older man’s jumper tighter with pleasure and as the burglars get tricked by Kevin, James’ hand ever so slowly slips under his underwear – just on the area where his lower back meets the first slope of his cheeks…then the score suddenly gets louder, a scream followed by something that sounds like someone crashing through a window. Harry pulls back, involuntarily grinning at the ridiculous distraction they’ve got going on.

The older man’s eyes are still hazy, pupils blown wide and his heartbeat heavy under Harry’s palms.

‘Should I turn it off?’, James asks huskily, already reaching out for the remote.

The fact that Harry can have this effect on him, can ruin him like this and James…James just _lets him_ , gets his own thrill and joy out of doing the same to him.

‘Hmm…I think they’re showing the sequel afterwards though…’

‘Are you saying you’d rather watch another round of Macaulay Culkin's childhood being ruined on film instead of making out with me?’

‘…It does sound a bit cruel when you say it like that.’

‘Mhm.’, James continues – leaning down to press tiny kisses to his ear lobe – ‘And you’re not cruel, you’re a sweet boy, aren’t you?’ Harry lets out a something between a groan and a gasp as his hips push upwards.

‘I _am_ sweet.’

‘I feel a ‘but’ coming…’

‘Is that the only thing you’re feeling?’, he asks, raising his eyebrows as James’ left hand has somehow found its way to the juncture between his thigh and groin.

‘Well I was about to go for something else but you seem to be determined to interrupt me.’

‘You know, Home Alone 2 is one of the better sequels out there.’, Harry teases.

A bit resignedly, with the way he drags his long fingers over the span of the younger man’s thighs, but holding back an obvious smirk – James leans back against the couch. He doesn’t quite remove his hand from Harry’s body, but intertwines their fingers instead to let them fall onto to the couch.

‘That’s the one with the Trump cameo though, isn’t it?’

‘It’s only for like a split second.’ He pauses before continuing. ‘You can kiss me during that scene, don’t even have to look at it.’

James’ put on frown turns into a triumphant smirk. Harry keeps his promise when the moment comes up half an hour later.

When the sugarsweet ending of the second movie flickers on the tv, Harry feels like he’s pracitcally melted into the sofa and its cushions. He feels cozy and warm, like he could spend hours doing just exactly this.

James is glued to his side, their shoulders and thighs brushing.

‘You know what we should do next?’, Harry asks as the credits start to roll.

‘What’s that?’, James questions, a glint sparking up in his eyes again as his eyes travel down his body.

‘Probably not what you’re thinking.’, he jokes. ‘I think…I think we should watch _The Grinch_ next.’

‘Again, Harry…Grumpy, hairy Jim Carrey trying to fit into the Dr. Seuss world over me? I’m starting to question a lot of things.’

‘Oh yeah?’, he breathes out with a laugh, plopping his head onto his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘Like what?’

‘Like your sanity and my attractivness.’

‘I can’t comment much on number one without a psychological evaluation but…you definitely have nothing to worry about regarding the second one.’ He leaves a kiss on James’ cheek, trailing down his neck with a bit of tongue coming into play, and mouthing over his collarbone through his sweatshirt.

‘You do have a way of convincing me, you know.’

‘I do know.’, Harry says cheekily. Thinking of all the times he’s convinced the older man to do something completely cheesy and romantic, when he stared at a bouquet of daffodils and sunflowers for just a few seconds too long to not be noticeable and James had brought them home that evening. Or when a fun fair had arrived in Chester for the turn of the seasons and James had kissed him on top of the ferris wheel while fireworks sparkled in the midnight sky.

‘Then I’ll go get some snacks while you pull up Netflix, yes?’, James proposes – patting his knee before getting up to walk over to the kitchen.

He does just that, opening the player and hearing the older man use the microwave before coming back with a bowl of caramel popcorn, the brown glaze already making his mouth water.

‘Something to keep you sweet.’, he announces as he sits down again, placing the treat onto the line where their thighs meet.

‘Thank you.’, Harry says before pressing start and picking up a small handful of popcorn and throwing it into his mouth. He can hear the crunch coming from his own mouth, enjoying the sugary goodness, and it drowns out the first couple seconds of the opening shots. Then James chews on them as well, having the same effect. Harry grins into his sweatshirt and cuddles up even more into him, ready to dive into Whoville.

Cindy Lou Who brightens up on screen and the Grinch’s heart grows two sizes while James’ thumb occasionally rubs over the back of Harry’s hand. He could fall asleep like this, he thinks, but he doesn’t want to miss a moment – both of the movie and of James’ company that he can’t quite ever get enough of, really.

And as that film comes to an end, both James and Harry seem to have come to an unspoken agreement to just stay like this and continue binge watching.

James suggests _The Holiday_ , quoting Jude Law as one of his early crushes and Harry can very much relate.

‘Are you up for watching another one?’, Harry asks afterwards as the fire in the fireplace slowly bure surely crackles to its end and their bowl is nearly empty.

‘At this point it doesn’t even matter anymore.’, James says – slightly drowsy – pressing a short kiss onto his lips. Harry follows him when he moves back, stealing another short moment for himself, sticky lips massaging eachother, making him swoon.

‘I love your enthusiasm. Let’s do The Polar Express, who doesn’t love seeing Tom Hanks being motion capture animated into…basically every role.’

‘That actually sounds…a bit creepy. I’m here for it.’

When the hot chocolate scene happens, James genuinely seems to be enjoying himself and the whole movie is poured over with so much childhood wonder that even the two of them, neither having had the picture perfect Christmas time when they were younger, can feel a bit emotional when the movie reaches its climax. James squeezing his fingers, Harry returning the favour and both actions saying _‘You made me believe again'_


	8. Buying Christmas presents

                                                                  

They haven’t really given the topic much thought, too wrapped up in eachother these past few weeks, but when Harry is slowly dozing off on James’ naked chest while the older man suddenly let’s out a loud ‘ _hmm_ ’ while scrolling on his ipad….he perks up again. The light of the screen a bit grating on his eyes from tiredness and the otherwise darkness of the bedroom.

‘What are you up to?’, he asks, pressing his lips into the soft skin just over James’ nipple.

The other man must have been so focused that he didn’t even notice him stir for a moment, surprisedly looking away from the device and down at him. His lips rise up into a soft, gentle smile before crinkles form between his eyebrows.

‘I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘You’re fine. I wasn’t asleep yet anyway. And we don’t have an early morning tomorrow or anything.’

‘And you certainly don’t need a beauty sleep.’, his boyfriend says while briefly reaching out to stroke his fingers over Harry’s cheek.

‘Don’t distract me, what were you looking at still?’

‘Nothing interesting, really. It was just looking for some new bed sheets on this furture site when…well, when I saw this.’ He sounds a bit unsure when he speaks and Harry is not quite sure why.

He turns his head closer to the ipad to see what James is showing him. It’s a book case. Light oak wood with three layers. Looking polished enough to warrant the price and rustic enough not too seem extremely posh. It’s nice but it’s not really James’ usual style. He tells him as such.

‘Oh, it wouldn’t be for me…’, James trails off again, biting his lower lip. Harry squeezes his arm in support, the action both telling him to take his time and continue. ‘It would be for Romeo.’ And that..that actually makes a lot of sense.

‘Mh. I think he’d really like it.’, Harry says encouragingly, knowing the insecurity this topic can make well up in James every now and again.

‘You think so? I just thought…you know, with Christmas around the corner and him kind of being a book lover…it might be nice.’ He pauses a moment before finishing. ‘But I don’t want him to think I’m trying to buy him again.’

‘I get that but…I also think you’re past that now? I know things are still sometimes…tense between you but..he likes you. Like, genuinely likes you and wants to spend time with you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.’, he concludes – continuing to stroke over James’ elbow.

The older man lets out a theatrical sigh, moving so he can wrap one arm properly around Harry’s shoulder. ‘And what would I do without you, hm?’

‘You’ll never have to find out.’, Harry says, the words tumbling out before he can think them through. Meaning them wholeheartedly.

James mouth open and closes two or three times, before that gorgeous smile reappears and his lips leave a kiss on top of Harry’s head.

‘Sounds good to me. Now, should I order this? Or look for a different one?’

‘I did not know late night online shopping was your thing.’, Harry teases, seeing that it’s just turned 1 am. ‘I think you should go for that one, he’ll like it.’

James orders the book shelf while Harry settles down on his chest again, closing his eyes. Ten mintues later the room finally turns completely black as the ipad gets turned off and James lays down next to him, breathing an ‘I love you’ into his ear before both of them find sleep.

 ___________________________________________________________________________

Over the next few weeks, they manage to actually make Christmas plans – deciding that they’ll have a nice romantic dinner out on Christmas Eve while Boxing Day is reserved for family – whatever version that might mean for them. Harry would like to see Dee Dee and Ant but things between him and Tony are still ice cold. He had invited his son offer initially, but when Harry made it clear he’d only come if that invitation extended to James as well…Tony had gotten so angry and red-faced, shouting so much that Harry thought he might actually, literally spit at him at any moment. It was an important moment for him, realizing that his father will never accept him and the man he loves most, and then promptly turning around, leaving the flat and not looking back.

He had still bought some presents for the kids, some nicely illustrated books and a stuffed mermaid toy and dragon. Making James sign his name in the _Frozen_ themed card, wanting everyone to know that they came as a package deal now, take it or leave it. He’ll simply put the gifts on their doorstep, hoping Diane will find them.

James tentatively managed to ask if Romeo had any concrete plans, getting a shrug of his shoulders in return. He suggested him and Juliet could come over for a late lunch to his apartment, something totally casual. When James told him that Romeo had immediately said yes, asking if he should bring anything with him, his eyes had sparkled with some new found joy and Harry felt so incredibly happy for him, wrapping him up in a hug and hoping he could feel the shared excitement radiate off of him.

On their weekly grocery haul, they see stockings on offer. They share one brief look before picking up four of them and their shopping cart quickly gets piled up with some extra chocolates and cookies to fill them with. When they arrive home they hang them on the fire place, stepping back to look at the display – James’ arm snaked around Harry’s shoulder and both of them feeling like it’s the first proper Christmas in forever.

Every year, Harry’s mom Tessie sends him an envelope full of money and some words on the scented paper he knows she has always loved to write poems on. It’s not a bad present, certainly not a useless one. Usually he shoots her a text or an e-mail back…but this time around things feel different. He made James take a selfie with him when they were out on a beautiful winter walk through the forest a view days ago, their faces squished adorably together and the landscape completely covered in snow behind them. He gets it printed out like a polaroid, tucking a letter into the envelope as well and knowing that she’ll be over the moon to find out how happy he truly is.

A week before the big holiday, they’re in a shopping mall. People scurrying in and out of every single store, looking frenzied and hectic.

‘Oh the joy of consumerism..’, James mutters as an elderly lady nearly starts a fight with the poor teenager behind the counter for not having the shoes in her young granddaughter’s size.

‘We are kind of part of it right now, you know?’

‘Yes, but…if I ever get that bad…honestly just knock me out.’

Harry snorts out a laugh, seeing the mall’s security hover by near the store now.

‘It’s probably weird to promise but…deal.’

James is still looking for a little present for Marnie despite them not being on best terms right now. They soon find themselves in a perfumery, a selection of saleswomen flocking towards them instantly. James waves them off, heading for the Chanel display.

‘This is her favourite.’, he says picking up a medium bottle of the lightly orange tinted scent called _Gabrielle_.

Harry smells the tester and the floral notes come first before a nice flourish of orange comes through. It’s sophisticated, elegant – very Marnie.

He gets it gift wrapped in the store, neither of them particularly talented at the task. A few days ago they had both tried to make the box of vintage comics look nice for Alfie and just ended up slapping a big bow on it to cover all the creases.

When they leave that store, Christmas music is blaring even louder than before and Harry will probably end up with a headache once they get home. He doesn’t mind though – any of it, the crowds, the overpriced bad mulled wine offered at the food court. He’s just content he gets to do this with James.

‘I should have gotten your gift wrapped in the store as well.’; James says, swinging their interlocked hands together. Harry almost comes to a halt, his eyebrows rising up.

‘My gift? You didn’t tell me you got me anything!’

‘That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Getting to unwrap a surprise?’

‘Yes, but…we didn’t say we were exchanging gifts.’

‘You know I don’t need a present from you, right? All I really want to unwrap is right here beside me’, James flirts, quickly pinching the side of his butt.

‘Then I’ll need to find a bigger bow.’, Harry says, making James chuckle. He might just actually have to do that, if the gift he already bought for his boyfriend weeks ago, stocked away at Zack’s where he can’t accidentally find it, doesn’t feel like quite enough.


	9. Making ugly Christmas sweaters

                                                                 

Harry smooths down the sleeves of the plain red cotton jumper, making everything as neat as possible. The material is not particularly thick but it’s definitely soft. James’ one laid out next to his is the exact same fit, but he opted for a dark forest green instead.

When December rolled around and Harry saw the Christmas jumper he had worn last year, looking very pitiful, tucked away far in the back of James’ closet he had actually gotten curious about the item. The last time he had grabbed it, it felt like a huge comfort blanket over him. Now he questioned how one James Nightingale even came in possession of something like that. He asked him about it in the washing room, where his boyfriend momentarily got a weird expression on his face before answering that the jumper had been a gift of an ex – John Paul, to be exact. Harry had felt guilty for wearing the thing in the first place and then was feeling a sudden urge to just dispose of it. It seemed like the older man had the same idea, grabbing the ridiculous and offedning clothing article and putting it onto their donation pile in the corner.

_‘It’s almost a shame.’, he had said._

_Harry had pursed his lips. ‘Is it?’_

_‘Yes.’, James had answered – coming closer towards him until he was backed up against the washing mashine. ‘Because you actually looked adorable in it. And hot. **God** you looked hot.’_

_‘Really? Because back then it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get me out of that sweater…’, Harry had said, feeling James’ warm hands cupping his hips._

_‘Can you blame me? You wear clothes very well but I don’t think anything could beat you au naturel.’_

_‘Show me what other French you know, will you?’_

___________________________________________________________________________

Ever since then the thought had been whirling around in Harry’s mind. Seeing James in some god awful gaudy, over the top cheesy Christmas sweater. Fringes, tinsels and fluffy baubels hanging off of it, everything covered with too much glitter that falls off sooner rather than later and won’t survive a second wash.

He thinks about just buying some matching ones for the two of them, knows he could get the older man to wear if he pouts just right with both his lips and eyes. Then gets the idea that they could actually make ones together, get a random selection from the fabric and arts and crafts store, just spend an afternoon sipping peppermint hot choclate while glueing and sewing things together like two kindergartners with a crush.

‘Do remind me again why we’re doing this.’, James prompts, settling next to him infront of the kitchen table.

‘Because doing DIY stuff is totally in season, didn’t you know?’

‘Right. How many YouTube videos have you watched on this exactly?’

‘None!’, Harry lets out indignantly.

‘Mhm.’

‘James, I mean it. I just thought this would be something fun to do together.’ James’ fingers pinch his side.

‘I always have fun with you. There are just certain activities I enjoy more than others…’ Harry looks up at him, wondering how insinuations like this can still make him flush all over his body. There’s the typical teasing glint in James’ eyes, but also the appreciation and a thing he can only really describe as worship whenever the older man looks at him just like that.

He’s not sure if he’s actually getting red, but his cheeks do feel hot and for a second he imagines himself as bright as the sweatshirt infront of him. Right, the sweater. _Focus_ , Harry.

'Then I’m sure you’ll appreciate this one as well after you get to take the thing off me again.’

‘See, now we’re talking.’ Harry bumps their shoulders together, his teeth sinking sharply into his lower lip, just ever so lightly suppressing a giggle at how much he’s enjoying their casual playfulness.

He looks over the display of accessories and tools they’ve spread out on the table. Differently coloured and shaped buttons, pieces of felt, soft stripes of fabric imitating tinsel, glittery yarn, random fluffy little balls, a couple pairs of googly eyes and glimmering sequins. There are some basic threading needles because that’s one area Harry is definitely not clued in on, scissors, pencils and then of course the fabric glue.

‘Do you have a plan or are you letting the infamous Thompson spontaneity take over?’, James asks, reaching out for a pencil, presumably to draw out the silhouette and shape of whatever he’s thinking off.

‘I do have a plan but I’m not gonna tell ya, can’t let you copy me now, can I?’

‘Psssh. I’m very creative on my own, thank you very much.’

‘I guess you have your moments.’, Harry teases – poking out the tip of his tongue at him, James smirking his signature smile in return, eyebrows raised.

Harry starts with a large piece of green felt, cutting it into the shape of a Christmas tree for the centre piece of his work. He glues it on carefully, making sure not to use too much so that it doesn’t squish out at the sides. It still does, but only a tiny bit.

He adds yellow, red, blue and purple balls on top of it, acting as baubels. Tugging some of the golden yarn over it to make it look like a long garland. Deciding to at least try using the needles once, he sews a few golden sequins in a star formation on top with a simple cross stitch.

Left and right he randomly distributes some of the tinsel, shaping them into little swirls and snowflakes and in the end throwing some over the top of the tree as well – can’t have enough sparkly things with a project like this.

He ends up using some of the fabric paint in tiny tubes to write out ‘Merry Christmas’ in a green with silver glitter particles swimming through.

His lettering turns out pretty neat, though he starts off big and about halfway through realizes he won’t have enough space – how typical, really not much having changed since primary school – and then adjusting the size of his writing for the following letters.

He’s noticed James occasionally peeking over at him exaggeratedly, pretending to steal some inspiration. Harry fondly shaking his head with a grin from cheek to cheek.

They talk about their planned Christmas dinner, James joking about he’ll need to make an extra litre of gravy because he’s never seen someone dunk and drown their mashed potatoe and Yorkshire pudding quite like Harry. Harry tells him about the time his mom tried to make a huge turkey for just the two of them, forgot to defrost it and decided having it in the oven for half an hour was more than enough. When she cut it into it, the meat inside was still partially hard and a brighter shade of pink than her lipstick. No meat made it onto their dinner plates that evening after all.

‘Okay, I’ll admit yours actually looks really nice.’, Harry says, wrapping an arm lazily around James’ middle and cuddling his face into the taller man’s chest and neck.

James has designed a reindeer with different shades of brown felt, a large fuzzy red ball glued on as the nose that will no doubt wiggle about when he wears it. The pair of googly eyes almost look to tiny for the animal but it just really adds to the charm. And apparently James is better with a needle and thread than him because he managed to stitch on ‘Happy Holidays’ with some silver yarn on top of the reindeer, right under therounded neck. He’s also dotted one a few thick drops of white paint here and there, making it look like a snowy background in the wind.

‘See, I told you. Creative genius.’, James boasts. ‘I think I prefer yours, though. The tree came out really well.’, he says while reaching out to rub between Harry’s shoulder blades.

‘Thank you, but… creative genius? Don’t you think that’s just the teeny tiniest bit full of yourself?’

James lowers his head down so he can breathe closer against Harry’s ear, his nose tickling his sensitive patch of his skin there.

‘I think you’re the one who wants to be full of myself’


	10. Baking Christmas cookies

                                                                  

 

Harry has been feeling poorly for a couple days now, spending hours on the couch and watching random documentaries. He’s learned more about the Romanovs and snow foxes than he probably ever needs to know but he can’t really say he regrets it. Besides, with a throbbing head, a constantly runny nose and a nasty cough…it’s kind of hard to do anything else.

He had a slight fever for about a day and a half, James going from worried to over the top mother hen at that point. Had driven him to the doctors, despite Harry reassuring him he was fine, it was just a bad case of the flu, really – and getting the same thing confirmed by Dr. Albrechts after over an hour in the waiting room. Getting some herbal syrup for his throat and the recommendation to take things easy and keep warm and comfortable.

And James has done just that, fussing over him with cuddly blankets and dozens of different teas, a bath with some eucalyptus essential oil and home cooked soups, which he does make a brilliant chicken noodle as well as broccoli one, to Harry’s welcome surprise, calling and texting him from work to ask if everything was okay.

The muscles in his shoulders and legs started aching today after taking a shower to feel not quite as gross and snotty, but now he just feels even more miserable with the box of tissues in front of him, Squidward reflecting his mood perfectly as a rerun of the old and best Spongebob episodes plays on the tv infront of him.

Then the door opens, James bringing a whiff of cold air with him. Harry turns around to see him, his cheeks looking flushed and handsome framed by his beard. His beige coat tucked up to his ears and…his hands carrying a big shopping bag from the grocery store

‘Hey.’, he calls out to him as a greeting, his arm leaning on the back of the couch.

‘Hi.’, the older man answers - a smile forming on his face at the sight of him, Harry immediately reciprocating – and then he glances him over from top to bottom, probably trying to assess how he’s doing, his eyebrows minutely drawing together. He looks adorable when he focuses like that. ‘And how are you holding up?’

‘I’m good. Just a general feeling of ‘ugh’, you know.’

‘Mh, I think I do know.’ He places the bag onto the kitchen counter top before coming over to lean over the sofa, gently laying his hand on Harry’s cheek and making their lips meet. First he had protested, exclaiming that he didn’t want James to get sick as well, the older man trying to reason that simple proximity of them living together would do the trick anyway. And after a few hours on the first day of flu, he was already feeling pouty and small. Walking up to his boyfriend with outstretched arms and James chuckling, knowing exactly what he wanted. Now he can’t even bring himselt to care, enjoying the older man’s mouth on his own, the skin of his face still somewhat cold from outside and cooling against his own heated one.

‘What did you buy?’; Harry asks once they’re separated from eachother again.

‘Oh. Just a little bit of this, little bit of that.’

‘Very specific.’; Harry says – biting his lips and trying to raise himself up on his knees to peek over to see into the opening of the bag.

‘I aim to please.’, James answers, getting an eye roll in return. ‘Fine, fine’. He grabs the bag, pulling out the items one after another and placing them on the counter behind him.

First comes a big pack of flour, then sugar, cream of tartar, butter…and finishing it all off is a large glass bottle of eggnog.

‘I know you’re kind of climbing the walls here and feeling down on yourself. So I, your ingenius boyfriend, started to think of something we could do together, inside.’ He purses his lips for a moment before continuing with a glint in his eyes. ‘Something a little less _strenuous_ than we do usually anyways.’

Harry sighs, unbelievably fond of this man and all he does for him. He gets up, walks over to him and gently grabs the fabric of his jumper near his stomach, playing with the material.

‘Thank you.’, he breathes out. ‘Especially for choosing a recipe that includes alcohol.’

‘You’re welcome. That’s why we work, you know. A mutual appreciation for booze.’

‘That’s totally the most important aspect of this relationship. Screw healthy communication and sexual as well as intellectual compatibility, I’m glad we both got our priorities straight.’, Harry jokes back.

As usual as when they’re standing like this, James places his hands left and right on his hips, drawing little half circles with the pads of his thumbs.

‘Are you feeling up for this then? If we bake them now we could stuff ourselves full of them later tonight.’

‘Yep, let’s do it.’

In a large bowl, they combine all the dry ingredients, including baking soda and powder they still had at home as well as a heaping sprinkle of nutmeg. Harry whisks together the sugar and butter, creating a pale yellow creamy paste. James cracks open the eggnog, pouring each of them a small shotglass to down beforehand. It goes warmly down his throat and chest, settling there and in his stomach. The Christmassy taste making him hum in pleasure and even lick his lower lip clean. They add the right amount to the recipe as well, along with two eggs and some rum extract.

Harry pours the egg mixture into the flour one as James starts stirring, opting for a wooden spoon instead of the hand mixer. When everything is perfectly combined they wrap some plastic foil over the bowl, putting the thing into the fridge for an hour.

He stretches out his back, feeling his muscles act up again and getting just the tiniest bit lightheaded. James must be able to tell immediately, rushing over to his side and leading him back to the sofa by his elbow.

‘You relax while I make you some tea.’ He wants to snap for a second, tell him he can barely stand tea anymore but James’ face is so soft and genuine that he can only press a kiss to his cheek, watch the worriedness turn into a smile again and see him start the kettle.

That peppermint liquorice flavour he bought is actually pretty fucking good.

They chill next to eachother infront of the crackling fire, Tchaikovsky’s Overture of the Nutcracker starting to play in the background.

Harry gets a bit drowsy, his head heavy and warm on James’ shoulder when the timer goes off. The older man slowly gets up, wrapping an arm around Harry’s neck as if trying not to wake him and place his head on one of the sofa cushions instead.

He blinks his eyes open, practically feels the love pour of them as he looks at James.

‘I’m awake, I’m awake. And yes, before you even ask, I do feel better.’ It’s not a lie, the tiny nap did him some good and his throat is feeling properly soothed.

‘Alright. I can finish this own my own though if you’d rather stay cuddled up here.’

‘Have I ever left you to finish off alone?’, Harry asks, teasing him and biting his tongue between his teeth, smirking down at him as he jumps up from their position.

He saunters over to the kitchen, practically feeling James’ eyes glued to his back – specifically the lower part of it. His black sweatpants are loose around his legs but they still cling nicely to other certain areas.

‘No. You’re very generous. In all things.’

Harry looks back at him, both of them staring at eachother for a second before breaking out into soft laughter.

They scoop out the chilled dough with their hands, rolling it into balls and dusting it with a mixture of sugar and nutmeg. The baking tray stays in the over for 9 minutes, the aroma radiating from it absolutely delicious.

The recipe also calls for a frosting to go on top, a simple one made out of powdered sugar, another load of eggnog and nutmeg. Harry tastes it with tip of his finger, eyes widening as the amazing flavour spreads over his tongue.

‘I’m taking it’s good then?’

‘Try.’; Harry says, putting another dollop on his finger and holding out to James – almost like a little challenge.

The older man raises his eyebrows, accepting, and leans down to wraps his lips around it. Hollowing his cheeks, slightly sucking and his warm tongue licking off the glaze.

Harry’s breath hitches a bit, almost turning into a cough, when he pulls back.

‘Absolutely scrumptious.’

‘I’m glad we agree.’, he raspily manages to get out after clearing his throat.

Once the glaze is in a piping bag, they drizzle it over the cookies sporadically, making sure every single on is covered equally though.

‘Thank you, by the way’, Harry says once they’ve put the baked goods on a plate.

‘You already thanked me earlier. Plus, this was to my benefit as well. Our cupboards are pretty empty, I think the only snack we had left where those chocolate covered nuts.’

‘That’s not what I meant…I meant..thank you... for taking care of me this past week.’ James stills from where he put the silicone spatula into the sink and then reaches out to grab his hand, stroking his thumb over the pulse point of his wrist.

‘I told you I’d always look out for you.’


	11. Looking at Christmas lights

                                                                  

There’s a thin layer of frost under their feet as they walk to the car, making a crunchy noise and forcing Harry to walk slower in fear of slipping. He’s only wearing his sneakers, his teddy fur lined beige jacket thrown over his frame, the tips of his fingers already feeling cold after a few seconds outside.

Boredom has driven them out of their flat, both of them with full stomachs of white wine pasta and those dark chocolate truffles James had gotten from a client at work. Deciding to retire to the bedroom early, make out lazily for a while and have Disney’s _Christmas Carol_ lulling on the tv in the background. After half an hour neither of them felt any more tired though, just a few moments of closing their eyes after bringing eachother to soft pleasure with their hands. James still feeling a bit restless after receiving a tough case file that was due in early January and Harry having had to block Ste’s number after receiving first some and then way too many incomprehensible voice mails recorded in a drunken anger.

They lay quietly next to eachother for a few minutes, Harry nuzzling the side of James’ neck, James tracing up and down Harry’s arm through his jumper that they hadn’t even gotten around to pulling off.

He looked outside the window briefly, seeing a string of warm yellow lights glimmering where they were wrapped around the bare branches of a tree. An idea popped up in his head, something he and a friend from boarding school had done once when they both stayed there over the holidays,neither having a proper family to go back home for and celebrate with. The guy, Randell, had just gotten his driver’s license and they spent almost two hours cruising through the neighbouring small towns looking at how people had decorated their houses and front yards, making up stories about who might live there and why they had chosen to put out those particular garlands or that wreath right there.

‘We should go look at the Christmas lights.’, Harry whispered into his boyfriend’s ear, noticing how the other man slightly shivered as warm breath hit his skin.

‘What do you mean?’, James answered, turnings his head from ceiling towards him.

‘What I said. We should go out, look at the different decorations and everything.’ Harry knew they were both in a bit of a weird headspace, because that’s just what life handed you on days like this, but Christmas was only days away and he refused to let the spirit and joy die they’ve basically felt the entire month through eachother.

‘Is that your not so subtle way of telling me we should have decorated more ourselves?’ James asked, their eyes meeting and both of them undoubtedly thinking of how they had spent hours placing different wood and glass ornaments around the apartment, using fake snow and glitter. Harry stepping back and staring for way too long to make sure everything looked perfect, the older man acting begruntled but secretly loving that they were making these traditions together and that Harry seemed just in invested in that as he was himself.

‘Nope, what I’m really getting at is we should explore Chester, see how how everyone else will be celebrating. Maybe laugh at some ugly blow up Santas or something.’, he teased.

James’ left cheek broke out into a dimple, Harry kissed it.

________________________________________________________________________

And that’s how they find themselves here, the air quiet and clear. James opens the door of his blue convertible for him and even once inside the car he can see his breath forming as a cloud infront of him. He wraps his jacket tighter around him, starting the seat heating as soon as his boyfriend gets on the ignition.

‘You wanna see what the neighbourhood has to offer or can we agree that we’re the ones with the superior Christma set up here and drive straight into town?’ James is wearing leather gloves, gripping the steering wheel and looking incredibly hot whenever he’s this boastful.

For a moment Harry thinks of Tony’s cheap nativity scene in the window sill, the painted on faces of Mary and Joseph looking eery, the golden shooting star hanging above it tinted with whatever liquid spilled on it in the storage box where it spends the other eleven months of the year. Yeah, Harry is not to keen on looking around Hollyoaks right now.

‘Careful, people will think we’re just stereotypical gays. Good at fashion and interior design.’, Harry jokes.

‘That sounds flattering to me to be honest. And I know Mac would froth out of his vile mouth and get a heart attack if he heard people talking about us like that so I’m all for it.’

‘That’s the cherry on top, really. Also, just for the record, in case it wasn’t obvious earlier, I really like being gay with you.’

James breathes out a laugh. ‘Same’. He reaches out to take Harry’s left hand in his own, squeezing gently once, the younger man returning the gesture – bare skin again leather making him fall in love a tiny bit more. He has these random moments where he feels like this, thinking he couldn’t possible love this man any more than he already does, but then he’ll do or say something tiny – seemingly insignifcant – like pulling him into a kiss by his scarf or humming a song in the morning that Harry has introduced him to the night before.

Empty dark streets roll past them, silver and gold lighting reflecting through the car windows and bathing their skin in that glow every once and again.

They reach an area of small narrow houses, most of them painted in plain whites and greys. But they are decorated nicely, garlands sparkling in the windows, red ribbons on the front doors, rainbow coloured lights in any of their trees and bushes in tiny gardens. In a different life maybe, Harry would have dreamed about living like that. Simple, undisturbed, going with the flow. He couldn’t be more glad he ended up right here though, with James by his side.

‘That tree looks like it’s gonna crush through their ceiling at any moment.’, James comments as he peeks through a larger window offering them a view into a living room.

Harry follows his gaze, snorts when he sees said tree – a giant bushy thing, the pointy end and put on tree tropper basically being bent over ninety degrees by the overhead floor.

‘I know these suburb moms follow the whole ‘size doesn’t matter ‘ lifestyle or whatever but I guess this time it really does, huh.’

Laughter bubbles up both their chests and fills the otherwise silence of their surroundings.

They drive past the high streets, look at the huge shop windows with animatronics of reindeer and polar bears. Giant strings of light bulbs coming down the taller buildings and fake icicles decorating the doors and their frames.

James just keeps holding his hand and they both point out things they like and dislike, already storing away ideas for next year.

He feels warmed up again when they reach the more posh area of town, brickstone houses with verandas and romantic balconies. Huge inflatable santas put on rooftops and extravagant light up sleighs and rudolphs situated prettily in the trimmed grass of their white fenced gardens.

It’s all a bit picture perfect and giving him ‘ _Home Alone_ ’ vibes and the feeling of one of those lush Christmas parades in New York.

Harry spies a light projector putting a snowflake pattern onto the front of one house, the light warm and beautiful.

‘You know,’, he starts off, ‘I do not envy their electricity bill for December, I can tell you that.’

‘You’re right. There are better things to waste money on.’ James’ face is bathed in the faint gleam of the moon light, the projector and lighting all around them kind of making both of them sparkle a bit. Harry thinks he might have never looked more handsome than in this very moment.

‘Like what?’, he asks – feeling the mood in the car just shift slightly, not quite sure why. Hearing his own heart pump love drunk blood through his system, exhaling as the older man stares at him with something unbearably soulbearing in his eyes

‘I guess you’ll have to wait and see.’ Harry doesn’t notice it, but James thumb keeps gently stroking back and forth over the empty spot on his ring finger.


	12. Decorating their Christmas tree

                                                                          

The night before they cut open the net wrapping around their tree, letting the branches bounce out and settle down again where they belong. They secured the stump in the stand, stepping back for a few moments to see if anything is wobbly. Placing a red tree skirt around it, embroidered with Santa, his sleigh and all his nine reindeer, Rudolph's nose highlighted with some coarse glitter. Once satisified everything would hold, they want to bed.

After sleeping in lazily, Harry presses wet kisses first to James’ chest and then trailing up his neck and jaw before whispering a soft ‘good morning’ into the space between their lips. They both feel warm, spooning throughout the night with James slung around him from behind. Neither of them is disturbed by the slight morning breath, simply tasting the other for a few glorious early moments where everything stands still, time seeming frozen along with the chilly weather outside.

‘Morning.’, James lets out – stroking the back of his finger over Harry’s nose and cheek bone, taking him in completely. ‘Are you cold?’, he questions as he notes that their blanket has sort of fallen off the left side of the bed a bit, leaving their shoulders and torsos bare.

‘Nah, I’m good.’, Harry answers. ‘Got my own personal heating, don’t I?’, he continues while absentmindely playing with the soft patch of hair just over James’ pectoral muscles.

‘Is that why you’re keeping me around then?’

‘Mh. Among other things.’, he tries to play coy but..it’s Christmas Eve and he feels happy and joyous and cuddly so…’I love you.’, he says.

He’s said those words so many times now and the reaction he gets out of James every single time still makes his heart stumble and his breath shake for a few seconds. No matter in which context, whether it’s during a shower – Harry breathing it out while James massages his hair with rose and aloe shampoo, his fingers stilling and gripping a bit tighter once he hears the confession, or James rushing out the door early in the morning, one hand carrying his brief case, the other quickly reaching for the granola bar Harry hands him before pressing the words straight into the corner of his mouth and his stubble, the high points of James’ cheeks just tinting slightly red before he even gets out into the cold winter weather.

‘I love you too.’, James murmurs, his voice tender and sincere but still tinged with sleep. His eyes a bit crusted like they always are when he first wakes up but shining with too many emotions and unyielding sincerity that not a lot of people ever get to witness.

They crawl out of bed twenty minutes later, Harry convincing him to pull on their self-made Christmas sweaters, neither of them changing out of their pyjama pants yet.

James makes coffee while the younger man gets all the boxes of decorations out of the storage room, plopping them down between the tree and the couch.

‘So..do we have a theme we’re working with?’, the older man asks, setting the cups down on the small table and rubbing his hands together.

‘Let’s see…’, Harry answers while opening up the lids and taking everything in slowly. They could pretty much do anything from silver and gold to rich purples and blues as well as pearlescent white and sparkle dusted glass. He feels drawn to something else though, giddy about how this is their first proper Christmas spent together and he’s kind of thought out every little detail in his head for weeks now. Not that he’d admit that. ‘Maybe we could go for the classic green and red combo, you have a bunch of baubels and ornaments like that. Also add some gold to that and some of those wooden tree hangers, they’re really pretty.’ They’re little carved ornaments, feeling like they’re made out of oak, the rind still on making them look gorgeously rustic. Woodland animals like squirrels, owls and foxes.

‘You’re pretty ** _and_ **have good taste…I really caught myself some nice arm candy with you, didn’t I?’, James jokes, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around him. His chin settles on his shoulder, nudging in the crook of his neck and tickling him there.

‘Of course I have good taste. I chose you, didn’t I?’ The older man squeezes him fondly, his breath coming out as a warm laugh against his right ear.

‘Mmmmh. That you did. Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?’

‘Yeah, yeah. You’re irresistible and all that. A man of many talents, we’ve been through this. Buuuuut…Are you good at decorating a tree as well?’, Harry questions, playfully leaning back against him, pressing his butt against James’ warm area between his thighs, greeted by something neither completely hard nor soft. He hears him suppress a noise between a groan and a moan, Harry biting his lips in a smirk.

‘Maybe that’s one area where I would have to admit defeat without your help. Thankfully you seem to be interested in… team work.’

‘Definitely interested.’, Harry answers, gently getting out of James’ embrace to focus back on the decorations, shooting him a cocky smile over his shoulder. His boyfriend’s face looks flushed and there’s a tempting spark dancing in his eyes. _Later._

They start with the normal baubels, saturated reds – some of them almost reaching a burgundy colour – and deep forest greens. About half of them matt, others coated in glitter. The majority of them are classically round, though a few in between are shaped like icicles and jewels.

James finds plastic candy cane ones at the bottom in one of the boxes and they decide to add them as well, fitting in nicely with the colour scheme. They make sure to spread everything evenly around the tree, leaving enough space so nothing looks to crowded but also making sure there are no overly obvious gaps anywhere around.

Harry starts tying golden ribbons around some individual branches while James hangs the wooden ornaments, running his fingers over some of them with a cute smile on his face – as if he’s reliving something sweet from his childhood.

He is about to ask him about it when James turns to him, his cheeks squishing up to his eyes. In his hand is a little goose figurine, it looks just as in tact that as the other ones, maybe a bit more smoothed down actually. Like it’s been handled more. There are two tiny black dots drawn on as its eyes, a bit uneven – the right one being bigger than the left – and James looks down at it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

‘This was Nathan’s favourite. He got so excited each year when he found it in one of the boxes. Barely could convince him to actually hang it on the tree, he just wanted to play with it. He focused so hard on drawing on those eyes, stealing a felt pen from Marnie’s stationery pile.’ His voice is quiet as he talks about his brother, his eyes misting up enough to be noticeable from where they’re standing together so closely. James doesn’t talk much about him and Harry never wants to pry or make him uncomfortable. But every so often he’ll share a random story, a beloved memory, and Harry treasures every single one close to his heart.

‘We should find a special place for it then.’, Harry concludes – slowly reaching out to stroke his finger over the goose’s beak. He looks up at the older man, his beautiful eyes shining with a form of happiness and gratitude Harry is not sure he even deserves.

James puts the ornament near the top of the tree, right in the centre. Only the tree topper will be above it, a soft golden angel with curly hair and a trumpet and harf, protecting everything hanging below it. Neither of them is religious, but it’s a nice sentiment anyway.

They continue decorating, halfway through James puts on his Christmas playlist with Frank Sinatra making up for the lack of actual snow outside and Brenda Lee telling him them to rock around their tree.

Together they put on a golden garland and a string of warm toned lights.

Harry thought he might start feeling weird at some point, at realizing he’s not contributing anything to the decorations – he doesn’t own any himself, has no inherited family heirlooms, the only baubels he’s ever chosen while in a garden center are piled away in a flat across town where he’s not sure he’ll ever be celebrating Christmas at again. But he’s feeling good, genuinely ecstatic, realising once more he’s found a home within these walls and with this man standing next to him. It’s not something he’s used to quite yet, but he’ll be damned if anyone ever tries to take this away from him again.

When the branches are filled up enough to their taste, they choose one last baubel together. A classic shiny red, a plaid pattern of light and dark green spread on top with some golden stripes worked in between.

There’s a perfect spot on the top left hand side, Harry having to go on his tip toes to reach up along side James’ arms. They tug it over the needles, letting go and James’ hand coming down to stroke over his own, his fingers intertwining between Harry’s as their hands drop down together between their thighs.

Harry feels James’ pulse reverberating through his own palm, feels their heartbeats thump in synched up rhythm.

They take a step back, looking at their work – their eyes gleaming in competition with all the sparkle.

‘What’s the verdict?’, James asks.

‘Solid nine out of ten.’, Harry answers.

‘If you decide to give me a hand again next year, I’m sure we can improve.’

Harry looks at him out of the corner of his eye, doesn’t completely want to give away whatever is bubbling up inside of him right now.

‘I’ll give you all of my Christmases if you ask me to.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the 24th of December - first and foremost this means I want to wish every single one of you Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Secondly, this also means we've reached the end of this little adventure. Your comments have been such a blessing as a writer and I can't express enough gratitude to you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> As always, until next time!
> 
> P.S - you can also follow me on my tumblr at jamesandharrystuff if you want to talk about anything fic related or just say hi

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go!  
> I had such amazing feedback to my Halloween version of this and already talked about Christmas in the comments there, with quite a few of you looking forward to this - and here we finally are.
> 
> Kudos and comments as usual forever appreciated.  
> Much love for the holiday season.  
> Enjoy!


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